


A Summer (not) Fling

by black mask rebellion (serenade_for_spectres)



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Akechi Goro is an actor, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Beach Holidays, M/M, Mild Angst, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Underage Drinking, morgana is an actual cat
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-10
Updated: 2020-06-10
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:35:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24647290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/serenade_for_spectres/pseuds/black%20mask%20rebellion
Summary: Non-PT/Metaverse AU where Goro is a rising actor who heads to Krabi, Thailand for a peaceful vacation. Except he runs into Akira, who Goro most definitely does NOT have a crush on, nope.It's just a holiday with a bunch of rowdy college students. What could possibly happen?//Un-beta'd, might be edited for grammar/spellings, sorry about that!
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist
Comments: 8
Kudos: 18





	A Summer (not) Fling

**Day 1**

  


For what feels like the hundredth time, Akechi Goro asks himself how the _fuck_ he landed up in this situation. Another bump on the road means another painful bump on his head. There are _eight_ people (plus one feline) stuffed in this car, the radio is turned up way too loud blasting what can only be Thai pop music, and the air conditioning is doing next to nothing to ease the heat building up in the congested vehicle.

  


“How much longer?” whines Sakamoto Ryuji, the most boisterous blonde of them all.

  


“How many times will you ask Ryuji?” Takamaki Ann snaps, the other blonde. 

  


“The map says another twenty minutes,” Okumura Haru announces from the shotgun seat. She’s the only one who looks fresh and put together. 

  


“Can’t this thing go any faster?” whines Sakura Futaba, who’s curled into the back of the van, jostling against Kitagawa Yusuke, who looks rather blue and won’t risk speaking. 

  


“We’re already doing seventy an hour, I’m not breaking traffic rules in a foreign country,” Niijima Makoto says from the driver’s seat, sounding as irritable as Goro feels.

  


There’s a muffled grunt followed by a sigh from right behind Goro. He twists slightly to check on the person on whose lap he’s currently perched extremely uncomfortably upon. 

  


“You okay there?” Goro hazards.

  


“As okay as I can be.” Kurusu Akira’s voice comes out a bit strangled.

  


“I’m really sorry,” Goro apologises again and Akira just shakes his head.

  


“I already said don’t worry about it,” Akira waves him off, but he looks like he’s been squeezed through a blender; hair astray, glasses askew and perspiration trickling down his forehead.

  


“We’re almost there guys, last stretch,” Ann tries, but her blue eyes look dead.

  


“Everyone okay back there?” Haru asks sweetly. She has to know that they’re really not.

  


“Yeah, everything’s greaaaat,” Futaba drawls, pushing Yusuke towards the tiny window, looking disgusted.

  


“Yeah, we’re amaze balls in here.” Sakamoto gives Goro a sidelong look. Ann not so subtly pokes him in the side.

  


Goro coughs lightly, pretending not to hear as his nose bumps painfully against the headrest of the front seat. He eyes Akira from the corner of his eye. Akira’s gripping the handle with his left hand and his right hand just… hovers awkwardly. It doesn't look very comfortable.

  


Goro has already swallowed a lot of his pride today. A little bit more won’t hurt.

  


He pokes Akira’s floating hand and lightly taps his own thigh.

  


It’s a silent, unspoken conversation and Akira, after hesitating somewhat, rests his hand on Goro’s thigh. He probably meant the touch to be light, but there’s a speedbreaker that Makoto just sails over instead of slowing down like a sane person, and Akira grips him to keep them both steady.

  


“Sorry didn't see that one coming!” Makoto calls without a hint of apology in her voice as the others curse and grumble about it.

  


Goro clenches his jaw and chooses to glare at the scenery, which has lost all beauty and serenity to Goro, and is now coloured in the bloody red of the setting sun, just like his silent anger. And embarrassment, but he tries to ignore that.

  


Professionals cannot act embarrassed, especially if you are yourself an actual professional actor like Akechi Goro.

  


Goro tries his best not to dwell on how he ended up in a van full of rowdy almost-adults, on the lap of one Kurusu Akira, the bane of Goro’s peace and sanity in recent times.

  


It all began nearly two hours prior to this ride from hell. At 3pm, Goro found himself practically stranded at the tiny Krabi airport in Thailand. His solo summer vacation had barely begun, and started off with disaster. Not only did he drop his phone on to the boiling pavement cracking its screen, he spectacularly failed at trying to find the cab he had booked before the device went kaput. 

  


Goro can’t speak much Thai apart from the regular greetings. He should have studied it, prepared beforehand for such a situation but alas, he’s been distracted, brain addled from exhaustion and overwork. 

  


Just as he was about the kick the guardrail out of frustration, he heard a cacophony of voices calling his name and, _fuck, am I going to be recognised all the way out here?_

  


Which in hindsight was a dumb thought, because he’s a rising actor, and Japanese dramas are always in fashion in Thailand. 

  


But the voices didn’t belong to overzealous fans or paparazzi. It turned out to be a bunch of people around his age who he recognised immediately - they always stood out way too much no matter where they went after all. 

  


After a long while of negotiating (from his end) and pestering (from theirs) in the middle of a fucking parking lot, he admitted defeat and accepted the ride. Into their van he hopped, because he had no choice and also, he hated the pitying looks they give him as he tried profusely to refuse them. 

  


Except, the van was already at full capacity, Makoto and Haru in the front, Yusuke, Futaba, a giant misshapen package stowed into the back, Sakamoto, Ann, Kurusu Akira and Morgana (Akira’s cat) stuffed into the middle row. The front and back were out of the question and their compromise is that the cat shifts from Akira to Ann and Goro had to -

  


And that’s how Goro landed up on Akira’s lap. For almost two hours, trapped in this hot box of metal. Counting the flight time, it’s been nearly nine hours since he’s properly unfolded his legs.

  


Goro’s butt is sore and he can only imagine how flattened and dead Akira’s thighs and limbs must be. But if there’s anyone’s lap he has to sit on, Akira is the only option.

  


There’s no way he’d sit on a girl’s lap and Sakamoto’s expression made it clear the guy would rather die than allow Goro anywhere near his crotch. Goro rather agreed. 

  


Stupid Kusuru.

  


Goro still can’t wrap his head around how he’s gotten himself into this situation.

  


Coincidences are the norm when it comes to Akira. Goro frequents the same rundown cafe where Akira works part time, they go to the same jazz club with a hefty cover charge, the same darts and billiards place down in Kichijoji. Goro even knows more than one member of this group of people from before. Moreover, the number of times they’ve ‘accidentally’ run into each other in a big city like Tokyo is not only borderline unbelievable, but downright suspicious. 

  


Goro nearly suspected Akira of being a stalker, because it was getting beyond ridiculous. But before he knew it, they began exchanging greetings, which turned into small talk, which then started evolving into deeply engaging (if brief) debates about everything from the news to philosophy, coffee and food, history and pop culture. 

  


Akira, it turns out had not been stalking him, he was just an extremely outgoing busybody with nearly ten part time jobs, who somehow seemed to know just about everyone and everything, and was fucking cocky about it. And everybody _loved_ the guy. He was naturally charming.

  


It irritated Goro.

  


Over time, his mild annoyance at Akira turned into a conflicting mess of increasing curiosity and growing vexation. 

  


And now this. Not only did their damn vacations coincide, they also _happened_ to have reservations at the same resort. It’s as if some divine entity was constantly intervening, a cosmic conspiracy snapping them together like magnets. 

  


Goro makes a face at the thought.

  


“Feeling sick, Akechi-kun?” Makoto catches him while checking the rearview mirror. “You should probably roll down the window.”

  


“I’m quite alright,” Goro says in his best assuring voice.

  


“I have a paper bag,” Ann quips, and instructs Sakamoto to open her handbag, since her hands are full with Morgana. How that furball can sleep through this mini-apocalypse, Goro doesn’t know. This turns into a tussle, as Sakamoto starts taking out Ann’s make up pouch, followed by a rather translucent kaftan, then a pack of sanitary pads and -

  


“Oh dear lord,” Goro mumbles to himself as Ann nearly scratches Sakamoto’s face off in frustration. There’s a quiet rumble against his body; Akira’s heard him and is chuckling silently at Goro’s expression.

  


Damn it.

  


“Just ten minutes more,” Akira says, his voice low, addressing only Goro. “You okay?”

  


“I’m fine,” Goro says. He knows Akira doesn't buy it. “And you?” 

  


“I’m great,” Akira replies, not missing a beat.

  


And their stupid, silent game of seeing who will break first continues. It’s torture, but if Akira will not complain or try to swap places with someone else, then Goro will keep his lips sealed and act like everything’s just dandy too.

  


If this means both of them have to sit through two hours of mute agony, then so be it.

  


He’s not like these _children_ , squabbling over every little thing.

  


At long last, the van turns into a tiny lane, and near the end of it is a large sign that reads, ‘Black Viper Resort, Krabi’.

  


They sigh collectively in audible relief, spilling out of the van haphazardly and grunting as they trudge through the gate adorned with climbers. Early April in Thailand is easily a fifteen degree jump compared to Japan where it’s still spring, and Goro internally curses his choice of outfit - a light jacket thrown over a button down shirt and trousers. The others are all dressed in light cotton garments like shorts, vests and t-shirts along with beach slippers or sneakers.

  


Inside the resort they go, to find only one lady at the reception. Her demeanor changes from lazy to wide-eyed interest as soon she spots them.

  


Specifically, Goro and Akira.

  


“ _Sawasdee Ka_! Good evening, welcome to Black Viper Krabi Resort,” she greets them with a thick accent and palms pressed together. Her eyes never leave Goro and Akira, who somehow find themselves standing next to each other. 

  


Goro checks in first upon Haru’s insistence and trudges to his room, butt sore, feet like lead. He barely registers the view itself, vaguely noting lush green lawns, tropical trees and a faint gurgling of water somewhere. 

  


His private room is small but cozy enough for one person, equipped with a mini fridge and a tiny kitchen area, a single bedroom with a queen sized bed attached to a small living room that houses one sofa and a TV set. 

  


It’s nothing fancy but Goro can't afford to be too frivolous with his hard-earned money just yet; his career has just started to take off and maybe someday, he’ll treat himself to something more luxurious.

  


For now, he’s relieved to be able to stretch his legs after nearly half a day. He’s disappointed but not surprised to see the bathroom equipped only with a shower and no bathtub. Perhaps, he can order the room massage...?

  


His self-indulgent thoughts are interrupted by rambunctious laughter of what sounds like an army outside. Goro peaks through the blinds and sure enough, it’s the rowdy gang again. 

  


If he has to guess, they’re most likely occupying the family guesthouse he saw listed on the resort’s website, a few meters away from his own little shack of a room. Goro has a sinking feeling that this trip isn’t going to go as smoothly as he’d hoped.

  


*

  


Goro wakes up at dinner time, after his ‘short nap’ turns into a pretty long one. He’s famished and still sore. It's the worst time to sleep and he’s questioning life. It’s too dark out to go on a photo walk, since there are barely any street lights in the area, the resort illuminated only by the small lamps dotting the cobbled pathways. 

  


Then he remembers his phone is fucked.

  


The resort’s layout seems to be island houses casually strewn across the lawns connected by narrow paths. 

  


He sees the faint glow of the main reception room in the distance. The gazebo next to it is supposed to be a restaurant. The low buzzing of insects fills the warm, humid air as he makes his way towards it, but then someone slams sideways into him.

  


“Sorry!” It’s Sakamoto, who seems to have been running at breakneck speed. In the dark.

  


And then someone _else_ rams into _him_ , tackling him to the ground.

  


It’s Ann, and she (unfortunately) spots Goro.

  


“Akechi-kun, hey!” she chirps.

  


“Good evening,” Goro replies pleasantly.

  


“Looking good!” she says checking him out head to toe with the gaze of someone looking at a noticeboard, and Goro looks down at himself. “Never thought I’d see you sporting anything _near_ a hippie look! Ooh, is that khaki? Can I see?” Ann has forgotten about Sakamoto entirely.

  


“Sure,” Goro says. He doesn't have much of a choice. Also, Ann has a habit of pouting and making wounded puppy eyes whenever she’s denied. He's seen it on the handful of photoshoots where they modeled together for a lip product they both endorse.

  


The rest of the gang appear from the darkness while Ann comments about the quality of Goro’s khaki shirt.

  


And before he knows it, he’s being dragged into a dinner scene with them in their mini-backyard attached to the house they’re staying in.

  


Goro looks around for a few moments to take it all in. Futaba and Yusuke are wearing (highly inappropriate) Pharaoh headdresses and doing some kind of ritual dance, Sakamoto and Ann are having their own dance off in a genre unknown to mankind, Haru is laughing and taking photos while chatting with Makoto who’s lounging on a foldable chair.

  


Someone’s brought a speaker, and it’s blasting 80’s Japanese pop music.

  


Goro spots Akira wearing an apron and he’s _cooking._ He practically has a little kitchen set up on a couple of folding tables, its surface covered in plates and cups, a chopping board and a variety of used utensils. There’s a portable flame with a bubbling pot atop it. 

  


Goro feels out of place. He’s not introverted or shy by any means, but this group of people are just… too diverse. The fact that they’re all friends just doesn't make sense to him. His handful of previous encounters with them has taught Goro that his usual socialising tactics won't work on them, since they’re such a bizarre combination of people. 

  


So he decides to strike up a conversation with Akira, who’s alone and humming along to the lyrics, while stirring the contents of the pot.

  


“Is that curry I smell?” Goro remarks, hands clasped behind his back. 

  


Akira looks up from the pot. “Why yes it is, Detective-san,” he responds as Goro groans. “Sorry I couldn’t help it.” Akira grins at him like a cheshire cat. “You were just too convincing in that role.”

  


“Don't misunderstand, I do take it as a compliment, but…”

  


“I get it, you've heard it a hundred times already,” Akira says with a nod.

  


“Yes indeed.”

  


“And you'll probably hear it a hundred times again!” Akira doesn't give Goro time to protest as he hands him a spoonful of curry. “So come on, try some. I need an honest opinion.”

  


Goro obliges and takes a bite, after blowing over the spoon several times to cool it down, vaguely aware of Akira’s glittering black eyes on him.

  


“Delicious.” 

  


“Yeah, I heard that from oh, about everyone here,” Akira says, hands on his hips.

  


“Ah, you're in search of a more comprehensive review,” Goro comments.

  


“Indeed. Consider it training for your future role as a famous food critic or whatever.” The _gall_.

  


“Why Kurusu, you would make a brilliant creative producer with those creative ideas of yours,” Goro says with his best TV smile. 

  


“And produce you? Yeah, you'd be world famous in no time. Except, my services aren’t cheap,” Akira says with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

  


Goro raises an eyebrow. “Cheeky,” he says with a huff. “But coming back to the curry. Let’s see… It has the familiarity of home while being more than just homely. It’s a little on the spicy side but not in the way that will burn your tongue. And there's… something unique about it? I frequent enough restaurants due to work to be able to say I’ve tried over a hundred curries, but this… is something I've never come across.” Maybe Goro can afford to be less honest around Akira. He isn’t really into food, but this curry is genuinely good.

  


Akira beams at him. “I’m flattered.”

  


“There's a secret ingredient, isn't there?” Goro asks him wide-eyed.

  


“Secret ingredients,” Akira corrects him. “Plural. And they will stay that way.”

  


Goro bites his lip and accepts a glass of iced tea from Haru, who has approached them. “Don't bother Akechi-san,” she says. “He didn’t let us watch him cook today, nor will he tell us the ingredients.”

  


“I consider it a trade secret,” Akira says with a flourish of his hand. “If I'm going to be successful in the future, man’s gotta have one or two of those right?” He throws in a wink.

  


“Why, what do you have in mind for the future?” Goro can't help but be a bit curious. 

  


“Food is the secret to stealing people’s hearts,” Akira says with barely concealed glee. He hands Goro a plate of steaming curry rice. “Enjoy your meal.”

  


Before Goro can ask what he means by that, Akira is shouting, “DINNER’S READY!” drawing in a swarm of teenagers around the makeshift kitchen like moths to a lamp, literally fighting to get their hands on the food.

  


Goro can't blame them. He's hungry, and the food smells absolutely divine. Besides, he's already tasted it to know how scrumptious it is.

  


“I feel bad that you’re cooking again even though we’re on vacation Akira-kun,” Makoto remarks.

  


“It's Akira we're talking about. He’ll probably be in the kitchen even during the apocalypse,” Sakamoto says through a mouthful of food.

  


“Ryuji! Don't talk with your mouth full!” Ann scolds him.

  


“How was the department store?” Futaba asks Akira between bites. 

  


“Well stocked, but I had to Google everything to understand what they were selling,” Akira replies. “To think I found my secret weapon in that warzone though…”

  


“Argh, I wish I’d been there to see what you bought!” Futaba whines.

  


Akira huffs. “You’d rat to Sojiro.”

  


“Would not!”

  


“It was too packed, Futaba,” Makoto says. “It's good that you stayed here.” 

  


“Did _you_ see what he bought?” Futaba asks her.

  


“No I uh… was…” Makoto hesistes and stares at her plate of curry like it’s about to attack her.

  


“What what? That’s suspicious!” Futaba gets a mad look in her eye.

  


“This is the most delicious curry you've made till date,” Sakamoto interjects rather loudly.

  


“I must agree,” Yusuke quips. “This flavour… I am comforted yet deeply moved by it. It's like the miracle of life, akin to being back in the mother’s womb.”

  


“Gross,” Sakamoto says, like he’s describing the weather. “Please tell me you didn’t forget to get dessert,” he addresses Makoto, then shrinks under her glare.

  


“Of course we did. There’s plenty, but you’re getting none of it if you don't help with the dishes,” Makoto says sternly.

  


They're like orchestrated chaos, Goro thinks. The conversation flows naturally but in waves, messy and disorganized. He can't keep up with the references to past incidents, or whatever obscure piece of media they squabble over.

  


Goro sits in contemplative silence mostly, while attacking the mountain of food on his plate.

  


“But to think we’d run into _the_ Akechi Goro here,” Ann says, snapping him out of his thoughts. 

  


“Yeah, you said you’re on a solo summer vacation?” Makoto asks, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. 

  


“That’s right. It’s the last one I’m going to get in a while I’m afraid,” Goro answers earnestly. “I begin filming for my next drama next week. Oops, I’m not supposed to reveal that!” He adds a tinkling laugh for good measure. 

  


“We’ll keep it a secret,” Haru assures him.

  


“Won’t you be lonely though?” Ann muses. “Hey, how about you hang out with us!” She beams at Goro.

  


Goro’s stomach drops. Oh dear.

  


“Uh, why does-” Sakamoto starts but unexpectedly, Yusuke cuts him off. 

  


“I must agree. This land is truly beautiful, and having a beautiful person around will improve the overall experience.” Yusuke says serenely.

  


“Are you saying we ugly?” Futaba kicks Yusuke lightly.

  


“Ah, I wouldn't want to intrude on your vacation,” Goro tries to protest but no one’s listening.

  


“I think it will be wonderful! We anyway plan to rent scooters tomorrow, since the car is quite frankly not up to the mark,” Haru says breezily. Goro wouldn't want to get on her bad side.

  


“It’s not worth the money for sure,” Makoto agrees. “I’ll drop it off at a local branch tomorrow.”

  


“I really wouldn't want to cause you any trouble,” Goro tries again. He just wants to say _fuck no_ to their dumb offer, but he can’t afford to. He’s had one too many nightmares about a gossip tabloid doing a ridiculous expose titled, ‘ACTOR AKECHI GORO’S TRUE NATURE: CHARMING OR ALARMING?!’ and that’s just a whole disaster waiting to happen if he’s not careful.

  


“Wait, there’s... “ Sakamoto squints in concentration as he points at everyone to count their numbers. “Eight of us! That! Is! Huh…”

  


“Perfect, right! One person would have had to ride alone, but not anymore!” Ann quips. “Right Akira?”

  


Akira, who’s busy scratching the cat’s head peacefully, looks up. He’s been watching them in silent amusement and Goro’s protests die in his throat, replaced by wary curiosity as to what Kurusu Akira has to say.

  


Akira grins, teeth flashing in the dark. “We managed to sneak in a cat. More party members means more firepower.”

  


“Oh _now_ we’re talking!” Futaba says, shooting Akira with finger guns.

  


“Man… ok yeah, that makes sense,” Sakamoto acknowledges.

  


“It doesn’t?!” Makoto shoots at him.

  


Yusuke looks tranquil as he adds, “Please count my vote as a yes.”

  


“But Akechi-san, that’s only if you want to of course,” Haru addresses Goro with a sunny smile. 

  


Goro makes a mental note about Okumura Haru: she has to know he can’t back out now. _Venus fly trap_ , he thinks absently.

  


“Yeah, we wouldn't want to force you or anything,” Makoto adds. “Sorry, we should have taken your opinion first, but… “ She smiles and gestures to the others. “We all kind of have a pace of our own and tend to get… carried away.”

  


Goro definitely cannot back down now. He ignores Akira’s smug face.

  


“I’m sure I can keep up.” Goro takes the bait as Takeuchi Mariya’s Plastic Love plays in the background. “If you’d have me, that is.”

  


“Let’s see what you’re made of,” Akira says with a satisfied smirk. Goro gives him a genial smile laced with thinly veiled venom.

  


Goro was never one to back down from a challenge.

  


“By the way, what do you mean _sneak_ _in_ the cat?” Goro asks. Nobody answers him.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm writing, I'm writing okay! I originally intended to finish this fic, then post the parts but... I want to put it out there. Enjoy ^_^ 
> 
> Additional tags to be added, it's 2am and I should sleep instead of trying to post this un-Beta'd fic. Well that's ao3 life for you.


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